Sing Your Heart Out
The first book in the Sinful Serenade series.
Available October 6th, 2015 (exclusively on Amazon)
Each book can be read as a standalone.
The line for the bathroom snakes around the corner. It’s flat-out irresponsible–hosting a hundred-person party and making all but one bathroom off-limits. People have to pee.
The living room is still throbbing with beautiful people dancing, grinding, flirting. Kara must know where the other bathroom is. Wherever she is.
I push through the crowd, but there’s no sign of my best friend.
Someone bumps into me, her hip pressing firmly against my pelvis.
Screw upstairs being off-limits. This isn’t a church. It’s a band’s Hollywood mansion. I’m not about to pee my pants respecting the sanctity of rock stars’ bedrooms.
I sneak to the second floor. All the noise from the party is just as loud here–a mix of music and muffled voices.
The long hallway has five identical doors. I scan the wall, trying to figure out which is attached to the smallest room. There. Second on the left. That must be it.
I turn the knob and push the door open.
Not a bathroom.
Definitely not a bathroom.
There are two people in here. They’re tangled on the bed. The woman on all fours. The man kneeling behind her.
They’re naked.
They’re having sex.
His gaze goes to me. There’s no sign of embarrassment or awkwardness on his face. He’s totally unmoved.
The woman shrieks and scrambles off the bed, pulling a sheet over her chest.
“Miles, you fucker. I told you I don’t do threesomes!”
I try to move, but my legs aren’t cooperating. It’s like a fiery train wreck. I can’t bring myself to look away.
He’s still kneeling on the bed. Wearing nothing but a condom. I scan his body for a split second. It’s enough to register all the important details. He’s tall, broad shoulders and chest, sculpted abs, and below his bellybutton…
He’s hard.
He’s hard and he’s huge.
A blush spreads across my checks. I stammer, attempting and failing to speak. I’ve never seen that before. Not in person. In movies, sure. Textbooks, of course.
But never in person.
The guy, Miles, makes eye contact. He’s completely unaffected. “You mind?”
I take a step back. My legs are finally bending to my will. “Excuse me. I thought this was the bathroom.”
“Next door on the left.”
I know I’m red. Beet red. “Thanks.”
I pull the door closed so I’m alone in the hallway. Next door on the left.
I step into the bathroom, lock the door, and die of embarrassment.
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